


To Worship a Goddess

by JonsaInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sansa is Queen in the North, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 17:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: Sansa is his forbidden goddess, and he will worship her with all he has.





	To Worship a Goddess

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this in 2016 before deleting my tumblr/AO3 in 2017. This is an incredibly expanded version of the original, which was only like 700 words.

Her hair spills across her shoulders, red like blood some lords whisper in the halls of Winterfell, but Jon thinks it glows red like the summer sun, vibrant and beautiful, dangerous to touch or look at too long for fear that it may burn you into nothing but another pile of ashes. Those icy eyes, that others say can freeze a man in his place before he turns to snowy dust, warm only when she meets Jon's gaze across the great hall of Winterfell, a cool breeze sent to calm him as she holds him still when he all he wants is to rage against the injustices faced down on the Queen in the North by the subjects who do not want to bow before a lady.

How he love to watch her at her work. She dances like a spiraling snowflake- every motion is grace personified, flitting between lords and warriors alike and catching the steps across the uneven stones that mark the floor of the great hall, spinning and swirling and throwing her head back and smiling at her partner as if they are the center of her universe. Her voice will be high heaven to his dying day, same as the music she plays on the high harp that brings him near to tears with every song. Sansa exchanges pleasantries with everyone, from Wyman Manderly down to Lyanna Mormont, and never lets their rebuttals bring down her spirit or her nerve, accepting their questions and commentaries before exacting her own laws and justice based on the wise counsel of those who surround her. 

She is surely a goddess, beautiful and meant to be worshiped, but she is something he can never touch. Sansa is his sister, _half-sister_ as she used to insist with those careful words that were never minced, ever cautious of upsetting her lady mother, and the thoughts he holds stay buried deep within his heart where no man or woman will ever find them. Sansa would shame him, as all their advisors and lords and smallfolk would, to know how he felt about this woman, this queen, this goddess above them all. To know the thousand places he wanted to kiss her, to drag his teeth across her skin and touch her between her legs until she shattered her armor of grace and courtesy to shout his name loud enough for everyone in Winterfell - no, everyone in the _North_ \- to hear. No one could know that he dreamed of making her scream his name, of making her whimper madly beneath his touches and caresses.

It would be so sweet, to feel her pressed flush against his body where she would fit so seamlessly. But that closeness can never be, no matter how many longing glances they share across the great hall, no matter how often her hands brush his knuckles underneath the Queen's high table, no matter the times he has whispered praise against the holy altar of her smooth, delicate ear or worshiped besides her, hands clasped in the shade of the weirwood hearttree where no one else but for him can notice the red that creeps into her cheeks and the way his eyes linger on the curves of her body beneath her gowns.

Sansa sits with him now, decked in starkest grey, her hair a tumble of soft red down her shoulders, her crystal eyes fixed on the embroidery in her lap. He should be studying his ledgers, fixing the accounts of the keep and all the armies he so diligently oversees to protect her kingdom from enemies that come, but all Jon can do is stare across his desk at her soft, delicate mouth and wonder if it ever has been kissed so hard it swelled with the pressure. He wonders what she tastes like there, if her lips would tremble after he kissed her fast and hard and rough, or if she would prefer he take the time to linger on each centimeter and run his tongue along their length, lapping up the essence as if time froze and would not restart until they've had their fill of each other.

He imagines what it tastes like, if her mouth is as warm as it look. It does not help that she so often bites her pink lip with her white teeth in concentration, digging the needle into the cloth and drawing patterns of wolves and flowers and snowflakes across the cloth. Her brow furrows to, but not in the sullen way he furrows his own. She seems oblivious to his wanton looks, but suddenly her eyes look up and meet his own.He will not last if he is ever inside her. One look would undo him and spill his seed inside her warmth fast as a blow to the heart would kill a man. 

"Jon, why do you gaze so long?" She asks, raising her slim copper eyebrow to a perfect arch. Her eyes glitter as they gaze right back, flitting down to stare at the juncture between his legs. He feels his cock shift and stir, imagining that she is looking straight through the leather of his trousers. The minx is toying with him- she must know his heart's desire, to have her wrapped around him and feel those soft lips upon him. Or else why would she stare at him so intently with those wild, sensual wolf eyes? It does not help the feeling in his pattering heart, the yearning to know her and love her like he knows he cannot.

When he does not answer, Sansa rises and approaches him. She sets a delicate hand on his shoulder, and with a gentle touch draws spirals along his muscles and up his neck. Tingles spread down his back and he is fully lost, his cock hard as an iron anvil. Sansa cups his cheek in that hand and stares straight into her soul. "Littlefinger once told me that every man treats a woman's body like a temple, but that it is up to the man to decide if he is a reaver or a rapist, a dutiful supplicant or celebrator, a septon or a religious fool." 

Her thumb runs across his mouth for a moment. "My late husband had no gods, I'd say. But tell me Jon, how do you worship?"

When he does not respond, Sansa takes her hands and hitches up her skirts before settling herself directly on his lap, her warm, pulsing center placed directly above his aching hardness. A moan catches in Jon's throat as she squirms over him, her body there where he has wanted it for so long.

He hates the torture she's brought to him, hates that he wants this unholy union to be true. She takes his face between her hands again and inclines her head, waiting for his answer. He thinks on her words, on the question she asks, and chooses an answer. Ramsay had no gods, but Jon has many.

In one swift motion, he gives into all wrong sin and temptation inside his dirty bastard sinner's heart. Jon draws Sansa's fingers between his lips as he grabs her hips and pulls her across his lap until there is no space left between them. Papers from the ledgers scatter everywhere, but Jon could not care any less.

Her kiss is hungry as his own, hot and heavy against his lips. She grinds against him, sending sparks of light and dark and ice and fire through his stiff member. Jon's cheeks flush with heat and desire as she wrapped her hands against his face. Sansa was here and his, in this moment, true and real and there. Jon's hands fall to her waist, pulling her against him tight and steady and stilling the motion that would cause him to spill in less than a blink. When he is ready, he will come, but he wants her hot and heavy on him, legs wrapped round him and his cock buried inside her. He will only come when she has said his name a thousand times and loud enough that the vibrations tear down what is left of the northern wall.

At his desperate urging, her mouth opens and her head tilts just so. He deepens his ministrations, giving her all he has and drawing her tongue into his mouth. In this moment, she is not his sister but his lover. Sansa smells like rain and sun all wrapped in one, fresh and beautiful. He smiles to discover that her lips taste like lemon even though she hasn't had a single lemon cake since she left the Vale.

Jon's hands wander her body, learning the curve of her back and the swell of her hip, as her own settle against his chest and curl against his shirt. When Sansa responds with a mewl to the light touch of his hand against her soft breast, Gods, he is gone, and Gods, is it good.

She roughly draws his shirt above his head and when he moves to slowly for her tastes, she rips it apart and shoves it off his shoulders. Her tongue catches on his shoulder, showing her love with deep, suckling kisses. Jon pushes her off, though. "It's my term to worship, not yours."

He flips their placement in their seats and raises her skirts to discover she wears no small clothes over her cunt and soft, auburn curls, the sinful, teasing lady. Sansa's dress rips too as he sheds it from her body and her heaving bosoms raise and fall as Jon slowly presses warm, wet kisses along her knees and up her thighs until his head is below her navel and pressed into the softness buried between her legs. There, Jon says a prayer and means it more than anything he has said before, to the old gods or the new. Even his vows upon joining the Night's Watch were nothing compared to the sacred prayer he whispers into the heavenly sweetness of the only true goddess he has ever come to know.

Sansa's fingers curl in Jon's hair as his tongue comes into contact with her core. She rocks against his touch as one hand wraps under her arse to pull her closer and the other slides up her thigh to flick at her little nub. He teases her soaking cunt with light, quick licks and when Sansa moans his name for the first time it is like a Septa's song. "Ah_, __Jon_. . ."

"Yes, love?" He croons and pulls back gently, a cocky smile at his lips as he watches the Queen in the North finally lose her composure. "What do you want?"

"I - " She whimpers as he flicks at her clit again. Something dark fills her face as she lifts her hips towards his touch and she finds her control. "I want to come. Make me come, Jon, with that beautiful, pouting mouth of yours."

Sansa gently yanks his head to her cunt again, and Jon is dutiful as any supplicant of the Seven worshiping before the altar of her hips. He slips two fingers inside her and takes her clit into his mouth, sucking and licking and thrusting those fingers until she is a shivering mess above him, bringing his face closer and closer into her core. When Jon adds another finger and buries them all the way in, Sansa quivers once more and he knows she is done for.

Her sweet, low cries as she comes are better than any hymn as she comes, Jon keeping his fingers thrusting gently against her as she sings his name between gentle moans and shuddering with the force of her orgasm. He kisses from her clit up to her navel and finally rises to press a hard, rough kiss on her lips.

Jon slips his fingers back into her cunt as he sucks on her bottom lip, nipping it with his teeth. Sansa's eyes flutter open, finally, and she takes him in her hand. She strokes him and runs the tips of her fingers over the tip of his cock. Jon's hips buck forward, thrusting his cock towards her.

"If you keep - I won't - " He shudders as she keeps stroking him with her soft lady's hand and uses her free hand to squeeze and roll his balls. "I won't last, my queen - I won't - "

"Then better put this to use, quickly, then." She smiles with the devil's lips and rises, spinning around until her ass presses into his desk. Sansa lifts herself to sit upon its surface, ledgers and letters beneath her, and spreads her legs open. She reaches her hands out as if inviting him to bend before her and pray.

Instead of praying, Jon strides forward, cock in hand, and aligns himself with the opening of her cunt. He strokes himself and runs the tip of his cock up her slit and across her clit before thrusting in all the way. Sansa immediately rolls her hips against his.

She digs her fingers into his shoulders as he sets a thrumming motion, thrusting in and out of Sansa, certain that he will die from the intense pleasure she sends as she clenches her cunt tightly around his cock. But if he must head for heaven or hell, fucking a queen on his desk is certainly the best way he can imagine how to go.

Sansa is the most beautiful woman he's seen as she looks him in the eyes and meets his thrusts, kissing along his shoulders and his neck, her affection evident in every motion. She rises up and throws her hands behind her to support herself. Gently, she rolls and bounces her cunt on his cock.

Jon clutches at her with an arm wrapped around her back and takes control again, to show her the love and passion he feels for her. He leans in and thrusts again, harder than before, and sucks at the skin of her shoulder until he knows that she has a bruise there to last many days.

Jon hisses as she digs her fingernails into his shoulder and drags them across his back. Surely he is bleeding. Surely he cannot care as Sansa kisses him again, hard and deep and needing, before pulling away and grasping his cheeks in her hand as he stills his thrusts and stares deep into those sky-blue eyes. "I love you, Sansa."

"I love you, Jon." She pants, heavy and desperate, leaning in to kiss him once more, lips fierce and angry and everything he's ever wanted. "I love you, _brother_."

Jon thrusts roughly, sloppily into Sansa and she arches against him as he thrusts one more time before he peaks the hardest he's ever come. His thumb rubs almost harshly on her clit until she comes with him, two bodies together in honor of the love between them.

Jon lifts her up and settles back into his chair, Sansa settled in his lap. As they both catch their breath, Sansa pushes the sweaty hair back from his brow and kisses him between his eyebrows. "I love you, Jon. And you are mine. No one else's. Only mine."

He grabs her lips between his own and kisses her hungrily before pulling back. "As you are only mine."

**Author's Note:**

> You can hit me up at [tumblr](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com) for more ASOIAF speculation and GOT fun.


End file.
